Layla
by CandiceViperRKO
Summary: Set in slave times. What happens when Cody Rhodes returns from law school and takes an interest in his sick father's slave? Not a good summary, read anyway.


**My second story. This story is basically an experiment because this isn't the usual Fanfic subject matter. I'm not expecting it to do very well. **

**I am of mixed raced, white mom, black dad so I'm a tweener when it comes to racial issues and knowing what's offensive and not offensive. This story idea came to mind after having a talk with my parents about interracial dating and how it dated back to the slave times. **

**Layla is my favorite WWE diva (I marked out so hard when she returned) so I'm using her as the main character. If you've been watching WWE for years you would know when Layla debuted she had curly hair and her skin was a little darker. I thought she was mixed with black because I'm the same skin tone but when I finally Googled her I found out she was Moroccan but today she's going to be mixed w/black. **

**Oh and I used Cody because he once dated Layla and I liked him together but now he's dating Brandi Reed(Eden Stiles) who is black so he obviously doesn't have a problem with interracial relationships, lol. **

Layla was terrified of the auction block. She had heard stories about life on other plantations, tales that kept her up at night. She didn't want to be beaten, raped, or worse- forced to pick cotton in the hot Virginia sun. Even though she was a slave, she had always lived inside her master's house. She had never had many chores or any real work at all.

There was a good reason for that. She was a mulatto, and her master, the honorable Judge Vincent Kennedy McMahon, was also her father. He was a tall, built man, with graying brown hair and deep-set eyes. He was always fond of the slave girls. He liked the ones with dark skin, and had plucked Layla's mother Alicia out of the fields when she was just 18 years old.

Alicia became pregnant almost immediately and gave birth to her first child one cold December morning. It was a boy she named Dwayne. He was extremely light skinned, with wavy black hair and dark brown eyes. He could pass for white, and often did. Layla was born shortly after. She was even more beautiful than her mother, with long, curly brown hair and almond colored eyes. Her skin was a soft, golden brown.

When Layla was about 16, her mother passed away, and Vincent decided to take on a legitimate wife shortly afterwards. The new wife's name was Vickie, a pale Mexican woman with a long bony face and brown eyes.

Vickie hated lovely Layla as soon as she laid eyes on her. Vickie could sense that her new husband would have probably preferred to take someone who looked like his daughter to bed then herself, and she jealously did her best to convince the judge to "throw his little daughter out in the fields with her own kind." As Layla went about her daily duties, she often noticed Vickie watching her intently, silently comparing her dumpy body with that of her growing stepdaughter. Her sagging chest with Layla's full and firm breasts, her pale, aging backside with Layla's curvy bottom and thick, sleek thighs, and her nearly translucent skin, slightly yellowed with age against Layla's almost perfect complexion and ebony locks. It was a contest Vickie knew she couldn't win.

As the years passed, Vickie's hatred of Dwayne and Layla grew. She was unable to have children of her own, and without a legitimate heir to secure her place in the family, she felt threatened by Dwayne. Even though he was still legally a slave, Vince had taught Dwayne how to read and write, and discussed arrangements for him to attend a Negro college in Pennsylvania. Vickie was against any sort of special treatment for them and made her displeasure known to Vince. He largely ignored her but both Layla and Vickie knew that her father couldn't live forever, and when he died, his estate, and her and Dwayne's lives, would be in Vickie's hands.

When Layla was about 21, Vince had a sudden bout with pneumonia. He was quickly bedridden, and shaken with cold sweats. Doctors came in and out of the plantation that winter, but it soon became obvious that the judge was going to die. On her father's last night on earth, the plantation was restless. Layla laid on her small bed, which was nothing more then a few sacks stuffed with hay. Her mind wandered about what the future would hold.

Quietly, the door opened. A shadowy figure stepped in, and her breath caught in her throat as she recognized her father. The man walked over to where Layla lay on the floor and knelt beside her. As her eyed adjusted, she saw that it was not her father at all, but her brother Dwayne, dressed in some of Vince's finest clothes. "Father is dead." Dwayne whispered to Layla. "No one knows just yet. I've taken some clothes and a suitcase- my inheritance. I'm leaving tonight." Layla shook her head, not understanding. "I'm taking a train north," He continued, "When I have enough money, I'll come back and buy your freedom." Dwayne saw the fear and alarm in Layla's face, but he continued quickly, before she could protest.

"Father's will stated that all of his slaves are to become property of Mistress Vickie, but in his final days, I managed to convince him to give you to the pastor of his church. You won't be beaten there, and the reverend is an old man, he needs a house slave to care for him. He lives in Richmond, and it is from there I will come for you when I have the money." Dwayne smiled to himself. Forging that part of the will himself and sending his baby sister to the reverend was Dwayne's best option for keeping their stepmother away from Layla. He leaned over a kissed his sister on the cheek. "I promise I'll come back for you, no matter what." He whispered again. And then he was gone.

The reverend Dusty Rhodes was a short, fat man of about 60. Friendly and good-natured, the pastor took an instant liking to this shy country girl from the plantation, and she took an instant liking to him. Layla spent her days cooking, sewing, and doing housework, while the reverend read her bible verses in between seeing visitors. It was only the two of them living in his modest townhouse and Layla quickly settled into her role as little woman of the house.

One hot summer morning, while Layla was busy making porridge for the reverend's breakfast, she heard the sound of horses stomping on the streets outside their home. She watched from the window as a tall man with broad shoulders stepped out of a carriage, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. She could see he was handsome, with dark hair and perfect teeth. She realized he was looking directly at the window she stood in. He flashed her a playful smile but Layla, embarrassed to be caught not tending to her work, closed the curtain and ran back to the kitchen and the reverend's breakfast.

It wasn't long before Layla learned the identity of the smiling man. Cody Rhodes, the reverend's son who was returning home after 6 years studying at a law college.

The moment Cody arrived at his father's house; he took an interest in the shy little black girl his father owned. He asked her name. "Layla sir." Even though she kept her eyes on the floor, she could feel Cody staring down at her intently. The simple cotton dress she wore must have been made for a younger girl, he thought, because her hips and breasts strained against the threadbare fabric. He felt like he could almost see inside that pale blue material, an idea that made his dick stiffen. A smile spread across his face. "Well now, what are you doing here Layla girl?" He asked teasingly, "I thought my father was too old for girlfriends." Cody laughed loudly at his little joke, leaning over and pinching Layla's bottom playfully. She gasped and took a step back. Cody was surprised. This was no little girl standing before him. Layla was a woman of at least 20.

"There's no need to act shy around me Layla girl, we're going to get along just fine if you play nice."

"Yes sir." He reached out to stroke her dark hair but Layla was backing away from him at a quick pace. He thought about grabbing her and holding her still but he heard his father's weak voice calling out to him, and Cody decided instead to say hello.

As he entered the bedroom, it was immediately obvious that his father was more seriously ill then his last letter to the University had made it seem. The reverend sat propped up on the bed, a glass of water in his hand. He looked up at his son and smiled.

"Don't worry about me lad." Dusty murmured, "I'll be right soon enough. I have a real good girl caring for me too."

"You mean the negro girl? Is she a slave?" He spoke the last word carefully. As a boy, Cody had often grown up listening to the reverend preach about the evils of slavery and the morals behind the legal enslavement of a race of people. His father looked sheepish.

"Well...yes she is... but I didn't buy her. She was a gift from a wealthy parishioner. Do you remember Judge Vincent?" Cody nodded. "Well the poor man died just a few months ago, leaving nothing but a widow and no heirs. His will specifically left the girl to me, there was to be no exceptions and no substitutions, although the widow did seem to put up a fuss."

"No heirs?" Cody repeated, "no children seems strange for a man his age and status." His father grinned, happy to share his piece of gossip.

"Well I said no heirs, not no children." His father glanced towards the doorway where they could hear Layla clinking pots somewhere in the kitchen. Cody felt stupid for not seeing it before. Her curly hair, skin and light eyes were clearly a sign of mixed race.

"What are you going to do with her? I mean, after..." Cody trailed off. He didn't want to mention his father's mortality while he was in such a frail condition, and he also didn't want to seem too eager to know about the future of this slave girl.

"Well... she, as with all of my property, will become yours when I die. I trust you will treat her with kindness." Cody nodded, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face. He stood to leave but his father called him back to the bedside. "One more thing," he whispered, "Layla is... innocent. I wish for her to remain that way while she is my property. Understand?" Cody smiled.

"Father, surely you don't think that I would..." He stopped when he saw the serious expression on the reverend's face. he nodded. "Of course, father." As he stood up and walked towards the door, the reverend was suddenly taken by a fit of coughing, which rattled his weak body and sent Layla running from the other side of the house to attend to him.

Weeks passed and Dusty's health, while fragile, remained steady. Cody attended to his father the best he could, but his thoughts were much more preoccupied by Layla. As he sat alone in the dining room eating the food she had cooked for him, he contemplated the future. He wasn't much of an abolitionist, even though most of the debates in law school centered on the issue of slavery, he had never really thought about it. They were not a very wealthy family, and they were certainly not landowners. Yet now he was in the position of inheriting his first slave and he wasn't really sure how he felt about that. He didn't know if he would make a good master. He wasn't a cruel man, which seemed like a necessity for the occupation. But perhaps he didn't have to be cruel. Layla may have been his slave but she was also a woman, which meant she was useful beyond performing simple chores.

Cody picked up his half finished dinner and dropped the plate at his feet, shattering the dense porcelain on the hardwood floor. He called to Layla. She appeared in the doorway moments later, and seeing the mess on the floor, quickly dropped to her knees and began to clean. Cody watched her intently. The faded blue housedress she wore was still too tight for her, and it didn't take much imagination for him to envision the soft curves of her body beneath the thin material. She was on her hands and knees, and he imagined himself behind her, spreading her legs and pushing his dick into her soft, wet, cunt.

"Anything else sir?" Layla was staring up at him. She was still kneeling on the floor near his feet. _Close enough_, Cody thought, _to lean over and start sucking my cock._ He was breathing heavily. He looked down at Layla's face and the temptation to tell her to wrap her pretty lips around his cock seemed unbearable. For a second, he thought he saw Layla's lips open slightly, and her little pink tongue shoot out and lick the corner of her mouth.

"Ohhhhhh..." he moaned slightly. He heard Layla gasp and glanced down. She was staring directly at the growing bulge in his pants. He was almost fully erect. "Oh." He stammered, embarrassed. Layla climbed to her feet and started backing towards the door.

"I should check on Master."

"Wait." Cody commanded. With some difficulty, Cody stood and crossed the room slowly, his swollen member still bulging in his pants. "Face the table." He commanded. He stopped directly behind her and paused, waiting for her to react. Nothing. He moved closer to her, pressing himself against her body. She tried to wiggle free at first, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and easily held her in place, pinned against the table. "You like what you saw, girl?"

"No sir. I mean, no sir, I wasn't looking at you sir." Layla stammered. She trembled slightly, afraid that he might hit her. She didn't make a sound as his fingers slid upward, and began messaging her body through her dress. The first few buttons holding together the top of the dress were easily undone and in an instant, Cody had his first feel of Layla's firm young breasts. He cupped them eagerly and pinched her chocolate colored nipples until they stiffened. He heard Layla moaning uncomfortably and trying to wiggle out of his grasp. She didn't realize that the friction she created by brushing against him only excited him more. His yearning to fuck her was now dulled his other senses, and he had practically forgotten all about his father's wishes for Layla's chastity.

Cody pulled Layla around to face him. His blue eyes carefully studied her features. Her warm tan skin smelled of lavender leaves and the lemons she had been slicing earlier. He reached out and placed a finger gently under her chin, raising her face until their eyes met. He was hoping to see some of the same passion he was feeling in her eyes, but nothing was immediately obvious.

"Open your legs." He ordered. She hesitated but did as she was told, parting her knees only a few inches. "Spread them farther apart." This time she moved her feet about 12 inches apart. He lifted the skirt of her dress to her waist, exposing her thighs and the short cotton underwear she wore. Thinking about being between those thighs made his cock feel impossibly hard and heavy, and he pressed himself closer against her body. Layla griped the table. The bulge in his pants pressed against her thigh was a sickening thought, or at least she wanted it to be. The truth was, Cody's warm breath on her neck, his hands exploring her- it felt almost good.

Cody lifted her on the dining room table and positioned himself between her legs. His hand slid down the front of her underwear, and with a gentle pressure, his fingers began caressing her most intimate area through the fabric. She gasped, and griped the edge of the table even harder, willing her body to resist. She felt a slow heat began to spread inside her body; it was like a tingling that started where Cody touched her and then spread out to her stomach and thighs. He smiled as he felt her shiver slightly against him. A small damp patch began to appear on the outside of her panties and Cody pressed further, encouraging her to enjoy herself. A small moan escaped from her lips.

"Do you like the way that feels, Layla girl?" Cody asked in a voice as smooth as milk. "It will feel even better later- when we both have our clothes off." Layla shook her head, almost involuntarily. She tried to shift in a different direction, to slip away from Cody and back to her senses but he held her in place. "I know you're a virgin, Layla," he murmured in her ear, "But I know you want this too. Do you feel yourself getting wet? I can be real gentle; I can make this real easy for you, if you don't put up a fight."

He could see Layla's hips rocking slightly in response to his stroking fingers. He responded by increasing the pressure of his touch and feeling her panties become even wetter. Layla was breathing much quicker now, and her exposed breasts bounced slightly as her body let out a few small tremors of pleasure. Cody smiled. He leaned in to kiss her but Layla shook head again and pushed against the table with all her strength. She managed to create an inch of space between her and the table and in an instant, she slipped out of his grip and pulled away from him.

Cody stood alone for a second, confused. _What had just happened?_

"Forgive me, sir," Layla mumbled, looking at her feet, but backing towards the door. "But I must attend to the health of my master." She turned for the door but Cody was quicker, and grabbed her by her wrist, spinning her around. He pulled her to him, and peered down into her face. Layla saw the anger and intensity behind his piercing eyes and froze, unsure what to do.

"I will not disrespect my father by forcing myself upon his property," Cody began. "But my father's health is declining indeed, and when he dies, his property will become my own. Soon I will be your master, Layla, and when that hour comes, the choice will not be yours to make. It would be easier for you to play nice now, because I may not feel so kindly later."

Although she was frightened, Layla understood exactly what kind of threat Cody was making. Numbly, she nodded slightly and turned towards the door, eager to be out of the room. As she hurried down the hall to tend to the reverend, she prayed that Dwayne would come for her soon.

**Dwayne= the Rock before he went bald.**

**Alicia= Alicia Fox**

**Everyone else you should know. As I said this was an experiment on a sore subject so I'm not expecting much but if I happen to get enough feedback I will continue after I finish my first story. **


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